


The Devil's Heart On A Silver Platter

by x_Luniana_x



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternative Ending 3x21, Blood and Injury, Crying Chloe, Crying Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Declarations Of Love, F/M, Heartache, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Hurt/Comfort, I do too, Love, Lucifer hates Cain, Lucifer reveals, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Revelations, Self-Harm, Sobbing, Touchy-Feely, Truths, Worried Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23879140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_Luniana_x/pseuds/x_Luniana_x
Summary: Lucifer keeps his true feelings hidden from Chloe and she’s had enough of his bickering with Pierce. She’s about to leave when Lucifer finally plucks up the courage to tell her one of the many truths he has held back on, but it seems, he’s only made things worse. What follows is a very unstable Devil. Alternative Ending for 3x21.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 18
Kudos: 150





	The Devil's Heart On A Silver Platter

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello my dear readers! As I continue to write on my post-S4 fic, another idea hit me and I knew I had to write it out as quickly as possible. This one-shot is loosely recreating the dialogue from Lucifer’s and Chloe’s dinner from 3x21 and spins then into a different / alternative direction. It’s gonna be sad, angsty, hurty and bloody. Not kidding. Also It’s focusing on Lucifer’s POV. Not beta-ed, but tried my best. Enjoy!
> 
> Recommended songs:  
> 
> 
> [When the Truth Hunts You Down · Sam Tinnesz ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECMsOEIX1A8)  
> [MISSIO - Love Me Whole ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9wW5oQhyxM)  
> [MISSIO - I Run To You ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ip2eRU737zU)  
> [Can’t help falling in love - Brooke ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDboeQfAsww)

* * *

**The Devil's Heart On A Silver Platter**

His heart felt like it was simultaneously beating out through his throat as well as twisting itself full circle inside his chest in its own torment.

_She has tears in her eyes. She's crying. By Dad, what the hell have I done to her? What did I say that brought her to tears? I don't understand. How? how did I mess it up again? I... I just wanted for her to see. She shouldn't chose that wretched Pierce. She doesn't know who he really is. He isn't even really interested in her. He just wanted his bloody mortality back._

"He doesn't deserve you," he pressed out, feeling his voice shake from his emotions scraping their way to the surface. He was trembling and his knees bounced nervously beneath the table.

"Then who does, Lucifer?" she suddenly broke forth challengingly, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. "Who _does_ deserve me?"

There it was. The question that was like a blunt knife pressed against his throat, urging him to speak the truth, yet at the same time his answer was the doom for them both, if he decided to say what his heart had felt for the past three years. He couldn't be that selfish. Couldn't say what would only push her away. She didn't know the truth, didn't know him for what and who he really was. Of all creatures, he knew he was the one who least deserved her love, and yet, he longed to be worthy of it. He longed for her to know and be the healing to his eternal suffering. But it wasn't fair. To make her see and force the world of celestial existence upon her.

Swallowing, he licked his desert-dry lips, feeling the burning of tears in his own eyes. Every physical experience with her around, felt tenfold as intense at least and that wasn't limited to fleshen wounds. He watched her as she stared at him, pleading, crying. She was desperately trying to clutch onto a life-saving straw that he wasn't willing to give her, because he knew the baggage that was attached to it. The Devil. God. Angels. Demons. Heaven. Hell. It would be damnation for her to merely _know_.

She kept on staring at him, full of expectation and desperation at the same time, waiting for a response and he felt crumbling apart. "Someone else… Someone... _better_ ," he choked out, wishing she could somehow read and understand him, without him having to say the words.

But it seemed that somehow his vague answer had made it even worse. She let out a tearful sob, frowning and shaking her head at him, her face riddled with emotional torment. The bitter irony wasn't lost on him, that she was able to show and express her pain so clearly towards him, while he held back his own.

"That's not how it works, Lucifer," she remarked with whining breaths. "You can't have it both ways." Her hands reached below the table and brought up the fine napkin, putting it next to her untouched meal. She stood, blinking and running her hands through her golden hair as she seemed to force herself in control over her emotions. "I've gotta go…" she mumbled weakly and exhausted. But he could read more in her tone and body language. She was disappointed and sad.

While he desperately tried to think of something smart or soothing to say, all he could do was stare at her as she made her way to his elevator. Standing up, not even aware of his movements, he followed her, each step making the knife to his throat press harder into his flesh. He was hurting her by staying silent and he knew he'd hurt her by speaking up as well. "Detective-" he choked in pain, standing in front of the elevator as she turned to face him. She was going to leave and it wasn't just from his penthouse. He could tell this was it. She was about to leave _them_ behind. "Please, don't-"

A single blink was all it took and the dam he had help upright for so long, broke with a single tear, falling soundlessly from his cheek. She looked at him, trembling, and he noticed she hadn't yet pressed the button for the elevator to close and take her away from him.

"Lucifer, just- just don't-" she stuttered, biting her lips to keep them from trembling along with her limbs. A visible shiver ran through her and she protectively slung her arms around her slender frame, her fingers digging into her sweater, holding on to it, trying to stabilize and firm herself up.

He felt nauseous from the ache in his chest and the crunching twists in his stomach. "Don't go to him," he quietly breathed, a desperate plea. "Please, Chloe-" His legs carried him another three step closer, his feet almost dragging over the ground. He knew she was going to see him. Pierce. Cain. The first murderer had wrapped her around his blood-stained little finger. He had given her what he himself hadn't, What he _couldn't_. They had bonded. They had made the step into a relationship together. He knew they had been intimate with each other. He had smelled Pierce all over her several times. Of course he wasn't holding it against her, but it still hurt to know. And maybe it was true and Pierce's initial intentions had changed. Maybe he had really fallen in love with her. But what did it change? Deep inside, he wasn't a good person. He hadn't been honest to Chloe and she _deserved_ not to be lied to. She deserved the whole truth. And Pierce would never give her that truth.

 _What about me? Am I going to give her the truth?_ _I guess, that's the big question._

The movement of her arm shook him out of his thoughts. She had pressed the button. The metallic grind of the elevator door filled the room and her pale face was swiftly curtained from his view.

_No. No, not like that. If she leaves for good then… then it's over. She'll never know. I don't have anything to lose now. Or rather 'everything'... Her..._

Effortlessly he reached for the sliding door, gripping it and causing the closing mechanism to to halt and reverse. Her face came back into his view. She gazed at him and stepped backwards until she rested against the wall of the cabin, making it clear she wasn't coming back inside.

His breaths came in heavy rasps, the seconds passing in slow agony as he tried to put all of his honesty and emotions into words that made sense. "I wish-" he began, his voice hoarse and his throat tight. "I wish I'd deserve you. But I don't think I do." It was the truth. One of the many that tore him apart. He offered her a pained, tearful smile, but couldn't hold it for more than a second. Jaw clenching, he swallowed thickly and watched her eyes water anew. She sobbed again, horribly, but he couldn't do any more. Couldn't give her the three words that she wanted to hear. He didn't even deserve to speak them out loud. Instead, his head lowered in quiet defeat while his hand let go of the door. He couldn't put up the strength to look at her again, to see her broken because of him. Her face would haunt him for all eternity. He knew it.

The metal slid between them, slicing through the bond and suffocating the flame that had burned between them. And just like that, she was gone.

He had walked into the figurative knife against his throat. He said what he could with his heart laid out bare on a silver platter for her to do with as she pleased, knowing it was not enough, yet wishing with every cell of his being that somehow it _was enough_.

Resting his head and hands against the cold metal of the elevator, he took in a shuddered breath, trying to fathom exactly what he had just done and what would come next. She would chose Pierce. Maybe not today. But she would, eventually. That slimy imbecile had weaselled his way into her life and heart and gave her what she needed. And he himself? He was either doomed to watch them or leave, both of which felt like the most masochistic torment he could think of. His knees gave in as his lungs released a pitiful sob before even more tears spilled out of him, the dam non-existent anymore.

He wasn't sure for how long he had knelt on the ground, weeping against the elevator. At first it had been solely because of the heartache and desperation, but at some point it transformed into anger. He had given everything, had tried to be better, be a man who was deserving her love. How could he fool himself to belief that in the end it would somehow magically work out? If she knew about him being the Devil, she'd run away screaming. Having her walk away sad and disappointed from him seemed like a good trade for her sanity. But it still wasn't fair, because he didn't give her a real choice.

Teeth grinding, he pushed himself up, the tears burning on his cheeks. He fumbled open his vest and pulled it off along with his jacket before tossing it carelessly over the bar. Stumbling towards the table he had set up for them, he snatched the champagne bottle and emptied it in one go. It was the best champagne he had in store. Of course, only the best for her. Now it caused a pleasant, numbing buzz in his head, but not strong enough to make him drunk - although the quality of it seemed to have a stronger hit on him, he weakly acknowledged. Placing the bottle down with a thud on the lid of his piano, he stepped up to his floor-to-ceiling windows.

He spotted his reflection, the puffy and tormented eyes looking even worse then after his occasional excessive drug weekends. He looked absolutely miserable. Pitiful, although not deserving it. Just like her love. But there was something else he felt very undeserving of.

With a roll of his shoulders he released the wretched, white monstrosities out of their hiding spot. Glaring at them through the reflection, he felt his blood boil with anger. They shouldn't be there. Shouldn't look this magnificent and flawless. What a sick form of deceit they were. Picturing him as a graceful, holy being that was thoroughly good and pure. The white was even out-brightening Michael's by several shades when in direct comparison. But it was a delusion to think he was even remotely as angelic as his brother. No. They were a lie, making him believe he could be better, that he could truly deserve her, when he did not.

Curling his left wing forward as much as his wingbone allowed it, he reached into the thicket of his mid-long feathers. Bracing himself with last deep breath, he gripped two fistful of the fluffy whites and yanked. Jaw clenched, he grunted at the pain that was so much sharper and stinging than what he had been prepared for. But he had made up his mind. The lie _had_ to be crushed. Again and again he gripped and pulled, plucking the heavenly appendages.

He cried and screamed in agony, but he didn't falter, his willpower as unmatched as the white of his feathers, only that they were now covered in hot, deep scarlet blood. He switched to his right wing, repeating the process until he couldn't hold himself upright anymore and dropped to his knees, screaming and whimpering in his self-caused misery. At last he shifted to his prime feathers. Grimacing, he forcefully pulled the first one out of his membrane and another guttural scream tore from his lungs. Collapsing on his blood-stained palms, he slipped to the ground, his wings twitching in silent suffering. The puncture wounds continued to bleed, dripping into small puddles on the dark, Italian marble floor.

He laid on his side, embedded in the gruesome pile of bloodied feathers, and sobbed. The sharp, hot piercing pain continued to sting, making him wonder how much his body could take before he would just pass out. Apparently some more. There were still feathers left to be plucked. Sucking in a trembling breath, he winced as his wings made an unwanted, subconscious flap, knocking over the nearby glass table, along with its vase and magazines.

"Bollocks," he grunted out through his teeth, more concerned about the expensive tiling of his floor than his wings twitching in a fight for self-preservation.

A sudden gasp behind him, made him to freeze. Eyes widening, he gazed at the window, spotting a small, blurry shape in the reflection.

_No. No, that's not possible… that can't be..._

Shuffling himself around, his half-plucked wings sliding over the blood smeared ground, he froze again when he saw her standing next to his piano. Both of her hands covered her mouth. Her eyes were laced with red from the amount of crying she seemed to have gone through and still was, telling by her quickened breathing and soft sobs.

She looked at him. _Directly_ looked at him. She saw his wings. The truth, one of the truths, laying bare in the open, so to speak. He noticed, she didn't make a move aside from the light trembles rocking through her as she continued to quietly sob into her hands. Was she mentally breaking apart? Maybe this revelation had torn her sanity apart.

_How is she even here?_

Shaking his head in disbelief and shock, he stared back at her. "No. No, this shouldn't- You weren't supposed to-" he croaked out stuttering. "You weren't supposed to see this."

Her hands loosed from her mouth, one swiping the tears from her face, the other reaching around to hug herself. He could see her knees trembling, but something in her eyes was strange. There was fear, confusion, but also a small amount of cautious curiosity. Her detective-brain was trying hard to understand what her eyes saw, what he wished she hadn't seen. At least not like this. Not without preparation, and also not _that_ side of him, not the pretentious angelic side.

_What now? Is she going to be head over heels, relieved and all joyful because she sees a real angel in front of her? Is she going to collapse from the realizations that came along with it? About God, heaven and hell? Will she turn around and leave again, for good? Bloody hell, is she even able to speak a coherent sentence still?_

He frowned as the fear of her reaction was pushed aside from the worry of her sanity. "Please say something," he breathed, pushing himself up with a few more grunts. The pain in his wings stayed and made him wonder about her presence again. "Since how long have you been here for?"

Her lips parted, her blinking lashes releasing a last couple of tears before she took a deep breath, composing herself. "I was- I-" She frowned and licked her lips, nervously. Shortly glancing behind herself, she carefully looked at him. "I was in the elevator."

"What...?" he breathed out baffled.

_She had been in there? The whole bloody time?!_

"I- I heard… you," she explained timidly. "When you screamed, I- I was scared you were-" She broke off, biting her lips and wiping away fresh, salty droplets from her cheeks. "You're-" She swallowed, shaking her head as she glanced over his wings.

It was difficult to understand her mental state. The good thing was, she still seemed to be able to talk, but he wasn't too sure about how she coped with what she was seeing. And it made him nervous the way she stared at his wings, impossible to really pinpoint what she might be thinking. He knew she was holding back and he also knew why. She wanted to say the word, but it would make it another level of _real_ than just seeing it with her own eyes. And that was scary as hell itself. "Say it," he mouthed, not yet trusting his voice to be strong enough to speak up any louder.

Her shoulders cramped up as she seemed to fight for the confidence to speak. But to his surprise, instead of talking, she started to step closer. But when his wings did an involuntary tremble, she flinched and stopped in her movements. Sighing and cursing beneath his breath, he looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. They are a bit twitchy," he jested and downplayed the little incident and the pain he was in. He forced his wings to lower as much as he could in order for them to appear less intimidating to her and gestured her with a nod to go on. "Please, Detective," he urged softly. "You have to say it."

Her delicate brows frowned and her ocean blue eyes stared at him intensely. "You… you-" She paused again, breathing hard. "You're an- an angel."

His heart contracted painfully and sunk. Of course she would state the obvious first. It was only natural. Only human. "What else…? You know it. Say it, Detective."

She swallowed, fighting to overcome the fear over what she was about to say. "You're the- the Devil," she whispered half in statement, half in question.

There it was. Another truth. _The_ truth _._ The Damocles Sword above his head. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, and a weight of a mountain slid off his shoulders. But it wasn't all of it. Lips pressed together in a tight line, he offered her a small, sad smile and nodded to confirm her statement. Then he waited. It was always excruciating to do so, but he needed to be careful with her still. Just like with his reveal to Charlotte, he had to give her time to process.

She rubbed her upper arms, cautiously still and made two more steps towards him, stopping when she was just out of reach. "Do you- Do you have… g-glowing, red eyes?" she suddenly asked, her voice still timid.

His eyes squinted, irritated. How did she know? A lucky guess maybe. Imagining the Devil and recalling pictures spread about him through eons of various media, he had often be depicted with red eyes, making him look monstrous and evil. "Yes, but I'm nothing like what you might have seen in the books," he murmured carefully.

"And your f-face... y-your head?" she went on, making another step closer.

He wasn't sure if she was aware of it though as she seemed to be stuck on something in her detective-brain, not focusing on her own movements. The question though… It was odd. His Devil face was a very dicey topic to say the least and he felt his heart beat through his throat once again at the mention of it.

She however seemed to use his moment of bafflement and hesitation to gather some more courage. Her wide blue eyes flickered over his body and up to hold his gaze. "Is it all like… fleshy red… with sinews and bones and no hair?"

His stomach curled. He gaped at her in shock, frozen. This was a worrisomely precise description of his Devil face. How was that possible? Had he ever explained his devilish looks to her? He couldn't recall ever having done so. Perhaps it had been the Doctor who told her? Nervously licking his lips, he tilted his head in concerned curiosity. "H-how do you know that?"

Tears welled up in her mesmerizing eyes again. "I- I saw you with… with the-" She swallowed, and gestured up at her face, unable to say it.

"What? _When_?" How had she seen him? He had always been careful around her, always tried to protect her sanity from the nightmarish looks of him. He desperately tried to think of a situation where maybe he had been incautious about it and realized it couldn't have been that recent, given his current absence of his Devil face, and having it been exchanged for his blasted feathered appendages.

She looked beyond tensed up and it was painful to be forced to watch, not really sure what was going on in her head and what he could do to help her. With another sharp inhale she let out a sob and more tears spilled over her cheeks.

But this time it was different somehow. The glisten in her eyes changed. It wasn't concern or fear like it had been before. It was _relief_. And it made no sense. She cried not from horror or sadness, but from some kind of realisation. Her whole body began to shake, her hands reaching up to cover her mouth when more heavy sobs escaped her. "What?" he breathed, confused and worried over her reaction.

"I just- I just realized… I saw it when we met." she explained without any more details, and the relief in her expression increased.

"What?" he breathed again in disbelief. How could that be? When they met? That was three years ago. How? And why did she never mention it?

"I- I wasn't sure back then… I mean," she quickly continued, her words spilling out of her as she recalled the events. "I thought I might have imagined it. When I got shot, before I lost consciousness… I remember, I saw your reflection as you were holding Jimmy Barnes. And then in the warehouse when you asked me to shoot you..."

_Barnes? That had literally been when we met. Our first case together. And the warehouse?_

He clearly remembered her shocked expression from that moment. "You had asked me what I am when I confronted that woman. You aimed your weapon at me. You saw me _again_ that time?" he asked, although knowing the answer already. She nodded and looked at his wings again, frowning. He cringed. She was scared. "I'm… I'm sorry, I should have probably drawn them back the moment you saw them."

She stared at them, mesmerized, eyes widening. "Holy shit…"

"Erm… yes, well… I suppose that's an adequate synonym for the state they're in," he jested a bit awkwardly, but saw that she didn't really react to his joke.

"No- I was just- They're bleeding. Did you do that?" she asked shyly, obviously shaken from the looks of them but also from the evidence at hand. His hands. They were covered in half-dried blood, making him look like a butcher creature from out of a horror movie. "You're hurting."

He frowned again at her words. She was worried? For him? But she just realized she _knew_ about him since the beginning, but never had trusted her own eyes. She had just found out about him being the actual, real, life-size Devil. How was she worried? He shook his head, more in continued bafflement, rather than in a response. "I'm… It's fine… I was just…" He hesitated.

_Just what? Am I going to give her another vague answer? Another half-truth that would hide or downplay the actual problem? No... I've already begun to give her the truths. She deserves them. All of them._

"I don't deserve the wings and I don't like to have them on me, being what I am. It's just a pretty illusion. I'm not angelic by any means," he uttered, his voice trembling and hoarse from the fear of what his truth would cause from her. The unburdening of what he harboured, stripped himself bare for her reaction. Her rejection. The final stab into his immortal heart. "I'm the Devil. And you-" He paused, swallowing hard and trying to force back the tears that burned in the corner of his eyes. Looking at her, his expression saddened. "You are holier than I ever was and ever will be. That's why I said, I don't deserve you, Chloe." The mention of her name fell past his lips with a tear. Did she understand what he said? The finiteness? The end of _them_? Because there was no _them_ for him. He had to admit his defeat, his failure. Another truth.

She watched him so intensely, he felt as if her eyes could drill into his flesh. She was inspecting his heart on the platter, thinking. Oh, he could tell her Detective-brain was thinking at its maximum capacity. A comic might have shown fume come out of her ears. Then, she suddenly shook her head and he realized she hadn't just been thinking. She was also _judging_. "No."

"N-no?" he wondered, blinking confused.

"No," she said with a stern expression, the shimmer in her eyes turning confident. "That's not your decision to make."

"But I am the Devil," he repeated with a shaking voice. How was she even considering anything else? There were no _options_. No other outcomes for this.

"I know… I can… I remember. Look, I need some time. To… think. This-" She gestured at his wings, worrying her bottom lip. "This is a lot, you know? And… honestly? I don't know anything right now." She sniffed and made another step closer, this time definitely in his personal space. "Well, no, that's not true. I… I'm worried. D-do they need to be taken care of somehow? They... they really don't look too well."

"Bloody hell, I suppose they don't…" he muttered with a shrug, flinching and hissing as a pain rushed from his membranes into his wingbones and further into his shoulders. "I'll take care them later…" With a grunt, he focused on the metaphysical plane they came from and used his powers to pull them back with a roll of his shoulders. There, hidden on the plane of light, they wouldn't hurt. At least not until he'd release them again.

She gasped at his move, her body tensing up again for a brief moment and he tensed up as well, concerned. "Are you alright? D-do you need something?" he asked, finding himself babbling in worry and nervosity. "Do you want to sit down, maybe have a drink? Y-you can of course also leave, if you want to get away from me. I can call you a cab, so you don't have to drive. I totally understand." He quickly stepped past her, aiming at his bar where he put his cell. He stopped dead tracks and stared at her, shocked, when her hand took a gentle hold of his forearm.

"No… I'm fine. I mean, I'm good. You don't have to call me a cab, unless you want me leave." She glanced at her hand and quickly pulled it back. "D-do you want me to leave?"

"Of course not. Whyever would I want that?" he scoffed, licking his dried lips. She smiled at him, carefully, but it was a smile. One that made his chest feel all light and his stomach all fuzzy. "You know what? I'll take a drink. That champagne's already out of my system again." He was hoping that some casualty, some natural behaviour, would help her relax in this situation that was definitely anything but normal.

She followed him along as he headed behind his bar and watched him warily. "The champagne? Did you drink the _whole_ bottle?"

How wonderfully innocent and sweetly righteous she was. "I did, yes." He filled himself a tumbler of bourbon and took a big gulp, feeling the hard liquor burn down his throat and slosh south into his stomach. Then, he halted in his move, thinking. He had felt the rush of the champagne's alcohol before. Stronger than he had thought it would be, because apparently she had still been close to him, slowing down his metabolism and making him more affected by the alcohol. It also explained the continuous heavy bleeding from where he plucked his feathers. Of course it had still hurt, he just hadn't expected for his puncture wounds to not heal. Her presence in the elevator raised a question inside him and the light feeling in his chest returned. "Why did you stay? Why didn't you leave?" he breathed and put the glass aside, looking back at her, wondering.

"I told you," she answered, nervously shrugging and torturing her lip between her teeth once again. "You were screaming… and-"

"No. Before that," he gently specified. "I wasn't screaming right away. Why didn't you leave immediately when the elevator doors closed?"

Her lips parted, her cheeks blushing ever so lightly. "I... I wasn't sure..." she murmured and trailed off.

"Sure about what?" he asked, stepping up to her, feeling as there was that spark again between them. But it was gone, wasn't it? Hadn't he quenched the happy ending? She looked up at him, not withdrawing as he inched even closer. "Sure about what?" he repeated in a whisper, just barely able to be heard. The hard breathing and the widening of her eyes were intoxicating. Had she any idea how bewitching she was?

"I wasn't sure about leaving. It… it didn't feel right," she whispered back, the soft blues around her irises pleading up at him. "Not after what you said. But I… I wanted you to say _more_." He swallowed and flexed his jaw in defence. "You knew it. You knew what I was waiting for-" She broke off, quietly sobbing.

Of course he knew what she had wanted to hear from him. "Yes, I knew. It would've made it easier for you, because you weren't sure about me… about us. But I couldn't say those words, don't you see? You didn't know about me. If you would've found out afterwards… I'm not sure you would've talked to me again, let alone if you would've stayed sane." He sighed and raised his hand to caress over her cheek, but dropped it again, realizing it was still covered in blood. "Now you know… and you haven't run off."

She shifted closer with her arm, the back of her fingers carefully brushing against his before slipping to the arch of his palm. He trembled, the touch strangely tender and intimate. She glanced down on their joined hands, caressing her thumb over his crusty skin. After a minute of comfortable, but also curious silence, she looked back up. "Say them _now_ ," she whispered, the blues making him want to drown in them.

It was such a quiet, but oh so powerful demand. A plea. A wish. It meant everything. It _was_ everything. His heart was beating so furiously, he wasn't entirely sure his body could stand it for more than a few minutes while being in her proximity. His head felt spongy, dizzy from her closeness, and the magical paralysis her eyes caused in his limbs. The lump in his throat made it painful to swallow as he stared at her in trance, but the words she sought were tickling at the tip of his tongue, fighting to be finally released and spoken out loud.

And all of a sudden, it was like a revelation. There was nothing he was afraid of anymore. She had seen him. She hadn't run away. She wasn't repulsed by him, but instead was drawn to him still. He released a tensed breath, his hand softly squeezing hers. "I love you," he breathed ever so gently, his heart feeling as if it had wings itself. He let out a soft laugh, the realisation that he had finally said it, overwhelming. "I love you, Chloe. I always have." The pressure in his eyes was again too much to bear, his soul feeling as he had been unburdened from a planet sized weight.

Her reaction was immediate and powerful. Her hand let go of his and both of her arms shot up and flung around his neck. With a firm pull his head was brought down until his forehead rested against hers. Her big blue orbs gazed into his soul as they shared their breath. "I love you, too" she sobbed, her fingers combing into his hair, gently scratching his scalp.

The foundation of his own world was shaken and turned upside down. It had been everything he had always wished for, everything he longed for, and now that it happened he didn't know whether he was coming or going. Everything was clear and yet made no sense. She loved him? But she had seen proof of him being the Devil. She _knew_ about his monstrous looks and about being the so called Archfiend. And she loved him anyway. Despite his flaws, his quirky Lucifer-ness, his short temper and his tendency for acting before thinking, which had brought both of them into heaps of trouble. She loved him and he felt himself burst from joy and relief.

Just after he released a light laugh, her lips pressed up against his and melted the remaining tension from his body. His hands automatically went up to hold her waist, pulling her against his tall frame as he leaned into the caress of her mouth with a yearning moan. Her parting lips invited him in and he stormily accepted, delving into her with a voracious appetite for her love. She responded just as passionately, although tender and more decent, her tongue sweetly surrendering to his. All thoughts and worried of before felt dull, faint and meaningless and most of all, very far away. He indulged in the moment, as he always did with pleasure, savouring every second and every facet of it. Hands sliding down to her bum, he picked her up with a quick pull, her limbs clinging onto him, their mouths never disconnecting.

He groaned, feeling as her fingers feverishly messed up his hair and he loved it. She drew him in, nestled herself against him, pecking and licking his lips. Turning them around, he headed to his bedroom, hands holding her steady against him. His head felt dizzy, his senses drugged from her taste and perfume. Stepping to the end of the bed, he leaned forward, gently having her drop into the sheets. She gasped against his lips, her fingers shifting down and eagerly working open his shirt. He hovered above her, resting on his elbows, hands reaching into her wild hair, but froze when he spotted his hands. Deep crimson weaved into pure, honey-blonde.

She stopped just having opened the last of his shirts' buttons and locked eyes with him. "What is it?" she whispered, the moment of quiet still heavy with passion. She tenderly raised a hand to his stubbled cheek and he sighed, leaning into her touch.

"My hands…" he mumbled back reluctantly, "I should clean them up." He leaned back up, pulling away from her palm and immediately missing its warmth. He wanted to feel it again, feel her fingers explore all of him, just like he was eager to explore and map all of her skin. "Just a minute." He watched her smile and nod, and quickly rushed into his adjacent bathroom. Shrugging out of his shirt, he turned on the tab of the basin and stared at his hands in the warm stream of water. Light pink sprinkled into the white ceramic and the reality of the situation came crashing down on him.

_What in Dad's name is happening? Holy bloody hell! She's in my bed. She… she's really… We're about to... Okay, get a grip on yourself, you moron! You gotta look decent for her. No, not 'decent' - perfect! It's Chloe, not just any woman. She's special. It has to be special. Is it? Is this romantic? Damn it, I'm washing my own blood off my hands while she's waiting for me. This is hardly-_

His brain short circuited at the touch of warm skin against the top of his shoulders. He gasped and stared at the mirror, watching as slender hands ran down his upper arms. Soft lips placed a featherlight kiss between his shoulder blades and he had to control the urge of his wings to burst free. He turned his head to look over his left shoulder and smiled, Chloe's small shape coming forth from behind him and into his view.

"Hey," she breathed with a sweet smile and placed another kiss on his shoulder. Before he could form a coherent thought, he saw her collect a handful of soap from the dispenser and with utmost care, she took his left hand and started to gently scrub over his fingers.

He watched, mesmerized and enthralled from her action and her loving touch. She leaned against his side, her eyes on their hands while his took in her beautiful face. Nuzzling his head on top of hers, he placed a kiss into her hair, chuckling lightly. "What are you doing?"

She smiled wider, biting into her bottom lip. "Washing the bad away." Her fingers delicately slipped in between his and slowly circled her palm across his, rubbing away the dried blood. "Lucifer?" her voice rang quietly. She waited for his ' _hmm?'_ before she went on. "Please promise me you won't do that again to your wings."

That caused a sharp pinch in his chest. He didn't _like_ them. He didn't _want_ them, because they felt like they had been stuck onto him against his own will. And he didn't feel like he _deserved_ them, even if he would ever want them. Cutting them off before had felt liberating, like he was actually in charge over himself, but maybe he had gotten it all wrong. Maybe he already had been in charge, subconsciously. He had kept his wings after his fall and only got rid of them when he had come to earth. The scars had never healed up, and it just so happened that when he had wanted to show her the truth about him, that his wings had been restored.

He remembered the rush of adrenaline, the nervosity, but also the determination he had when he had called her that evening. He had his mind set and had been ready to be judged by her and either receive her rejection or acceptance. He had stopped hiding. Hiding behind vagueness, jokes and the naivety of others who thought of his words as metaphors. And that's when his wings returned and his Devil face was gone.

He realized that plucking his own wings had been him hiding again. He hadn't shown her everything. He could have said the words, could have prepared her and then shown her his wings, explained to her that he really was the Devil and that he loved her. But he had chickened out. And she found out about him, with spread wings, plucked feathers and blood covered hands. His hiding had only made it worse. He hadn't wanted for her to find out like that, but it was his own fault it had come to this.

"Lucifer," she pressed concerned, looking up at him and squeezing his hands. "Promise me."

He shook out of his thoughts, the look of her so intense and pleading, it broke through all his barriers and worries. "I promise… and… I'm sorry." He let out a sigh, slightly shaking head. "All this time I wanted for you to know, but at the same time I was so scared what you'll think of me… That you'd turn away. I was a coward and an idiot… I only made things worse. I certainly didn't want you to find out like this." Looking back at their joined hands, he turned his palms and held her caring hands in his. He took a deep, strengthening breath and raised his eyes back on hers. "Please forgive me, Chloe."

Swaying her head in a soft shake, she trembled, clearly trying to not cry yet again. "I already have." At his surprised, blinking expression, she turned her attention back to his hands, scrubbed the last remains of blood away and turned off the tab. "There. All good again," she said and dried their hands with the side towel.

"I don't get it," he whispered, still staring at her, baffled. "I can't even begin to understand how I deserve you, but I want to give you everything I can." Reaching up, he softly cupped her cheeks in his big palms, leaning down to hover above her lips. "Please let me." Instead of a spoken answer, her head tilted up the last inch, her lips kissing his with heated, intimate breaths. Snaking his hands down her flanks, he pulled her sweater up, only leaving her lips to pull the fabric off over her head, before delving into the comfort of her mouth again.

Feeling her velvet skin beneath his fingertips, he moaned in need to feel and explore so much more of her. He picked her up, her hips grinding teasingly against his, and carried her back to his bed. Letting her fall into the smooth sheets, he slipped out of his footwear, hungrily watching her do the same. Shoes and socks carelessly tossed aside, he crawled back onto the bed. Dipping down, he let his lips and tongue touch her belly and with a tantalizing slow pace, licked his way up to her chest. He was bewitched, her beauty frying any other thought aside from his appreciation and carnal desire for her. Every worry, every insecurity, was gone with the feel of her fingers combing into his hair and the sight of her head tilting back, releasing soft moans of pleasure.

Tracing his tongue thirstily over the tender skin between her breasts, he lapped into the hollow of her collarbone and continued his way up her throat to her ear. Her breath was heavy and ragged just like his own, when her fingers moved to the short curls at the back of his head, causing the finer hairs below to stand on edge. He groaned in lustful enjoyment. "Everything about you, sets my body ablaze with desire." Stealing a deep kiss from her, he sat up on his knees, opening the button and zip of her jeans and helping her out of them. Splayed on his bed in just in her underwear, he ravished her with his eyes, taking in her elegant outline, soft curves and subtle muscles. "So beautiful…" he murmured and let out a quiet gasp when she reached behind her back and undid her bra. In trance, watching her bare chest rise and fall, he took off his pants and boxer-briefs and quickly leaned down to her stomach again.

Her hands back in his hair, she guided him lower, panting and moaning when his hot breath hit the damp fabric between her legs. Keening at the delicious smell of her, he gently took the sides of her panties and pulled them off her legs. He swallowed. She looked just as stunning as the last time he had seen her naked. He wanted to explore her with all his senses, taste and drink from her and let her explode in ecstasy in all the ways he could help her do, but that had to wait. He couldn't hold back. Didn't want to prolong what they both wanted and yearned for.

As if she had read his mind, she pulled his face up to hers, making him crawl on top of her, his weight thoughtfully held on his arms. Her knees raised and her calves pressed him closer, his pulsing erection resting against her warm, wet sanctuary. Lips crushing against hers, he didn't wait for yet another sign of her desire and with a swift angle of his hips he slowly thrusted, penetrating her welcoming heat.

Her moans were loud and long, and he happily swallowed them along with his own, feeding off of her pleasure as he sunk deeper into her. Pulling his head back a little to give her space to breathe, he gazed into wide blown eyes. He felt her holding onto him in all places, drawing him in as deep as he would go. He pulsed and her walls reacted with a stimulating, powerful clench on him. Gasping, he waited, reading in her expression when she was ready for him to move. She held onto his neck, her other hand reaching around his torso and clutching onto his back.

He shuddered. Her touch was like a cleansing drop of a solution, able to purify even the darkest sides of his being, a miracle on its own. The touch was so world shattering, he wondered, if it was another aspect of her being a creation of his Father's will. Her eyes were pleading up at him, her hands and legs urging him. Her signals for him. Slowly he started to move.

Trapped by her captivating gaze, he drew back out and sunk into her in a slow, but intense rhythm, their bodies moulding against each other perfectly, two matching pieces of a puzzle. Back and forth. In and out. Soon their slow movements turned more secure, each shift in position, each twitching muscle and each moment of sweet pressure and fulfilment, helping them to better read the others desires. She whimpered sweetly and desperately, within minutes close to reach her climax and he rocked against her, wave after wave, feeling her swell and tighten around him.

_Heaven… oh dear, yes… everything about her screams 'heaven'..._

Smiling secretly about his thought, he kissed her again. Shifting his balance on his left arm, he used his free hand to caress over her cheek and down to massage her breast. She gasped, her eyes fluttering close as he gently pinched her erect nipple between his fingers, and when she arched up against him, he knew she was about to come.

"Yes…" he breathed hotly, nipping her her lips and caressing them with the tip of his tongue. "Let me see you fall apart. Look at me, Chloe. Look into my eyes and let see all of your beauty."

Her eyelids squinted and fluttered open, although her brows showered how much effort it took her to not squeeze them shut in the pleasure her body was rocking through. Sharing her breath with him, she arched even further, her soft ocean blues held in the moment by his warm browns as she tipped over the edge.

"Ngh… Lucif-f-feeer!" she cried out his name, in the most glorious way he had ever heard his name pass over her lips. Her whole body convulsed and trembled as he kept his pace, feeling her clench around him in delicious spasms.

He watched her in awe and love, fascinated by her stunning beauty. She was deeply flushed and her breaths came erratic and ragged. Slowing down while her climax subsided, he eventually stilled inside her, nuzzled against her nose and brushed a strand of sweaty hair aside. "Hey," he mumbled softly, smiling.

"Hey," she breathed back, her fingers playing with his hair. It took her a few moments to fully focus back and come down from her high. Looking up at him with a hint of mischief in her eyes, she bit her lip and pushed him back. He complied, but found her arms holding onto his neck, making him pull her up along with him. Still filled by him, she straddled his lap on her knees and slowly began to roll her hips.

He hadn't thought of her to be that ecstatic and lascivious, but he was all the more happy about it as she rode him in a maddeningly slow pace, and pulled his face up for a deep, wanton kiss. A low growl escaped him, when her tongue licked along the top side of his mouth, and he felt himself panting from her channel's tight strokes on him. He was getting close. Quickly.

"You like that?" she breathed, rolling slowly back and forth, her fingers slipping lower and scraping over his broad shoulders.

Whimpering and moaning, he nodded. "Y-yes… just like that. Nice and slow." The treatment to his shoulders sent a pleasant tingling through him, adding to his burning lust, and shooting straight down into his loins. "Nnngh!" Burying his face against her chest, he shuddered, feeling the yearn of his wings to sprout out of his back again. The fact that her touch was having such an intense effect on them was highly arousing on its own, but in combination with her slow grinds, he felt losing himself in a sea of pleasure within seconds, pushing him towards his own release faster than he had imagined.

Her left hand went up and cradled his face against her chest, which he eagerly took as an invitation to lap out for her breasts. Closing his lips around one, he pressed his tongue against the nub and lightly sucked. She responded deliciously with all of her body; Her rolling hips stuttered in their movements, her arms tightened their hold onto him, her fingers against his shoulder blade dug in deeper, and her head rolled back as she let out an impetuous groan. She looked _magnificent_.

Growling, he nipped at the nub with his teeth before switching back up to her neck. Feeling her pulsepoint with the flat of his tongue, he angled his knees, rested his weight back on his hands and used the new balance to thrust and join her movements with his own.

"Oh my G-g-" Chloe whimpered in sweet bliss at his added thrusts, but felt Lucifer stop her when suddenly his tongue was back in her mouth, kissing her until their both needed to break apart for air.

Not that he wanted to be cruel to her, but the almost-mention of his Father _did_ leave a short sourness inside him and caused his buckles to be slightly more brutish than before. Hovering against her lips, he angled his thrusts, feeling his glands press against her swollen, spongy spot. She convulsed and trembled, so close to another orgasm. "Oh yes… yes darling. Fall apart for me again and I come with you. Just a little more…"

She arched herself beautifully, making him imagine her shape being sculpted in flawless, white marble like a greek statue. With a whimpering shudder, she leaned into him, both arms pulling him close, her lips at his ear, crying quiet pleas and uttering foggy confessions of love to him.

Holding tightly onto her, his lifeline and anchor, he felt himself harden further with a telling rush through his loins. Sensing both their release already in reach, he thrusted into her faster, until he felt her cramp around him, squeezing his body _everywhere_ with liberating cry of his name. The sound and feel of her crashing over him was the salvaging nudge he needed, that made him fall over the edge along with her. "Nggh… Chloeee!" he blissfully cried out her name in equal affection, pushing as deep as he could inside her as both their orgasms shuddered through their heated bodies.

He held her close as they calmed their breathing and gently guided her to lay down on their sides. Still sheathed within her, he held her leg draped over his waist, hips rolling in a slow, sensual grind. Watching her with hooded eyes, he leaned in and rested his face close to hers, nuzzling her nose and enjoying the warmth of her. She looked absolutely beautiful, all

flushed, her body ever so lightly trembling under his continuing movements, and her eyes wide and glistening with affection.

It was then, that he realized, he didn't want for the night to end. He didn't want for them to part ways. He knew being with him had not been the most pious of decisions, while she and wretched Pierce were dating, but for all he knew about Pierce's manipulative plan, he couldn't care less if the first murderer of humanity felt betrayed. And tonight, Chloe had admitted her love to him, not Pierce. "Stay…" he mouthed against her lips in a chaste plea, hoping she could see the layered meaning behind that one word.

_Not just tonight. Stay at my side. Be with me, not him. Let there be an 'us'._

She stayed silent, her gaze resting on him for tormenting seconds until her tongue dipped out to moisten her lips and she gave him a small nod. "Yes," she whispered, confirming her nod.

With a relieved whimper that burst out from the tension he had been in, he closed the distance to her lips, delving into her, both, mouth and core. He worshipped her, preaching his love and devotion to her, and his mind felt a peace it had never experienced before, because she accepted all of him and everything he gave her.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoyed the little one shot on an alternative for that episode’s ending. I was really just having my fun with it, running with Lucifer’s desperation on the whole situation he was in. I had fun exploring Lucifer’s thoughts and reactions in this one and yes, have him be self-destructive in the face of despair and the loss of Chloe to Pierce. See ya in the next one my friends!  
> Luni out!


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